


kerwos

by acheforhim



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don’t copy to another site, Episode: s02e12 Tome-wan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 20:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheforhim/pseuds/acheforhim
Summary: “There is no Troy for us to conquer. Say we kill them all – what will be left for us to claim?”“Each other.”





	kerwos

**Author's Note:**

> An alternative ending to Tome-wan, rated M for Murderous thoughts.
> 
> I'm usually not a fan of excessive usage of unedited lines from the script in fics, but this scene demanded to be taken as is and simply elaborated on (to a point, of course :'D).

“ _Achiless Lamenting the Death of Patroclus._ ”

Will nods, remembering the painting Hannibal is sketching. Although he has seen Hannibal’s art before, he’s rarely witnessed the process of its creation, so he takes a moment to appreciate the ease with which Hannibal recreates the work from memory, the lines clear even in the dim light. For a second, he wonders if Hannibal could draw _him_ this well with no reference, relying only on the memory of him. Then again, he doubts that they’d spend enough time apart for that to be an issue.

“Whenever he is mentioned in the _Iliad_ , Patroclus seems to be defined by his empathy,” Hannibal adds after a short pause.

 _Subtle,_ Will thinks. _Would you lament my death if you had to kill me? Or would you lament the fact that you could only do it once?_

“He became Achilles on the field of war,” Will says. _Adapt. Evolve. Become._ What Will has become is increasingly tired with them speaking around everything, around their feelings and intentions, but he keeps up the conversation nonetheless. “He died for him there, wearing his armor.”

“He did,” Hannibal agrees, though Will cannot discern from his tone whether or not he expects Will to do the same for him. Perish for him as he lets Jack recognize him as one of Hannibal’s kin. As his.

“Hiding and revealing identity is a constant theme throughout the Greek epics.”

“As are battle-tested friendships.”

Though he’s not sure whether what they have can be called a friendship anymore. Is it something more violent than that? Something more… Intimate? Will only knows what he feels. He can never be sure about Hannibal.

As if reading his mind, Hannibal says, “Achilles wished all Greeks would die so that he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone.” He looks up at Will, his eyes saying, _That’s what I want for us._ Will can’t resist bringing his hand up to cup Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal freezes for merely a second, then swallows and goes on, trying to seem unaffected. “Took divine intervention to bring them down.” There’s no missing the rough quality to his voice, and Will caresses his cheek with his thumb as if to comfort him.

“There is no Troy for us to conquer,” he says softly. His hand moves to Hannibal’s chin, gently tilting it further up. “Say we kill them all – what will be left for us to claim?”

“Each other.”

The sincerity contained in those two simple words leaves Will stricken. He just stares at him for a long moment, at a loss, before his body moves on its own and he’s leaning down to press his mouth to Hannibal’s.

He means to keep it brief, soft, but his lips have other ideas. They part to deepen the kiss, hungry, and he can’t help the noise that slips past them when Hannibal pulls him closer until Will is in his lap. Will’s hand slips into Hannibal’s hair and the other clings to his shoulder as he gives in to Hannibal’s touches completely. He doesn’t know how long he lets them cling to each other before he pulls away.

He rests his forehead against Hannibal’s, unwilling to move any further, even as they’re touching in so many other places, Hannibal embracing him as Will sits astride him.

“This isn’t sustainable,” Will whispers. “We’re gonna get caught.”

“Like this?” Hannibal asks with a little smirk, shifting a little under him. Will huffs and Hannibal kisses his cheek, almost apologetic. “Jack suspects you killed Miss Lounds.”

“That means he suspects you,” Will replies, and Hannibal hums in agreement. “We should give him what he wants.”

“The Ripper?”

Will nods. “I was supposed to draw you out,” he says quietly, and Hannibal tenses immediately. Will rubs at his shoulders in an attempt to relax him. “I think it’s obvious whose side I’m on.”

“A bit too obvious, perhaps,” Hannibal says. “How do I know you’re not trying to gain my trust, just to double-cross me in the end?”

“It’s flattering you think I’m capable of such deception,” Will says. “I assumed you’d be able to smell it on me.”

Hannibal leans in to smell Will’s neck, and Will lets him. He feels him leave a little kiss there, followed by his teeth grazing over his skin, and Will’s heart thunders in his chest at the knowledge he could sink his teeth into him any second. Has he done it before, ripped out someone’s throat in this way, felt their blood fill his mouth as the last of life was leaving their body?

A little moan escapes Will, unbidden, and he squirms, pushing Hannibal back to give him another kiss.

“Freddie Lounds is still alive,” he gives his final admission. To hell with the plan. To hell with Jack.

Hannibal gives him a cold look. “It would appear that you’re not incapable of deception, after all,” he says. “What did you bring to my table, if not a slice of her?”

“A slice of Randall Tier,” he says. He shrugs at Hannibal’s raised eyebrow. “I killed him, I deserved to eat him.” Hannibal’s eyes gleam in appreciation, and Will smiles. “I do not need to wear your armor to go into the battlefield,” he says quietly. “I can fashion my own.”

“You have,” Hannibal says. “And it’s beautiful.”

“Is it what you wanted for me?”

“There are many things I want for you. For us.”

“Could we achieve them while Jack still lives?”

“We could simply disappear,” Hannibal says. “Tonight.” It’s tempting. He only has a second to worry about his dogs before Hannibal suggests he feed them and leave a note for Alana.

He smiles at that. “Maybe not tonight,” he says, kissing the corner of Hannibal’s lips. “But soon. Jack is not a patient man.”

“Then we’ll give him what he wants,” Hannibal says. “With some minor adjustments to the original plan. Then we can start our new life.”

Even as he is, in Hannibal’s arms, no spaces or secrets between them, the idea of them having a life together seems surreal.

Yet all Will does is nod and kiss him again. For all the shit between them, all their differences, they are the same. Will has no doubt that they will conquer everything.

Alone.

**Author's Note:**

> (TECHNICALLY they won't be alone but will doesn't know abigail is still alive because hannibal wants to show her to him instead of just say she's alive for maximum drama)
> 
>  _*kerwos_ means _stag_ in Proto-Indo-European, the reconstructed common ancestor of both the English and Lithuanian languages.
> 
> please consider [retweeting](https://twitter.com/ache4him/status/1114520863204835328) or [reblogging](https://acheforhim-fic.tumblr.com/post/183570172619/fic-kerwos) if you enjoyed ♥


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